


Regret and Consequences

by Gandr



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Other, Who put these onions here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandr/pseuds/Gandr
Summary: Warrior of Light Oda reflects on the Imperial raid on the Waking Sands.More of a quick musing than anything but I wanted to put down what my character was thinking at this point in the game.Let me know what you think. Pls be gentle.
Kudos: 7





	Regret and Consequences

They should have known there would be consequences. 

_ She  _ should have known.

Felling Ifrit and Titan, two fearsome Primals, and on her own, no less. Of course the Garlean Empire would take notice of something like this.

They were watching the Sylphs, hunting for them, Oda knew that much when she rescued their elder from becoming a meal for an overgrown Banemite. But they were foolish, careless. Too comfortable with the idea that their hiding spot was so well hidden under everyone's noses they didn't stop to think that they would be found out through such a simple means.

She sensed it as soon as she stepped foot in Vesper Bay again. As soon as they seaside town came into view after regaining her senses after traveling though the Aethernet, a sense of dread hit her harder than any axe or hammer could have.

Something is wrong.

Something is very wrong. 

Shedding any sense of etiquette, the Mito'qe pushed her way past the crowd of people outside the Waking Sands, the feeling intensifying as she flung open the large double doors to find the entrance completely empty, no cheerful Lalafell to greet her as usual.

At the bottom of the stairs, she froze completely. A wave of dread slammed into her with all the fury of Titan himself. Her stomach sank, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt genuine fear. 

Fighting and killing was a part of being an Adventurerer. Sometimes the job meant taking the life of someone else, usually someone who had it coming, such as poachers or murderous thieves. Putting them down meant keeping innocents safe, honing your skills and getting some coin to boot.

Yet no amount of preparation could have steeled her for the massacre displayed beyond the doors. 

This was no hard fought battle, no valiant struggle to the last man. No.

This was wholesale slaughter. 

The way that several of the bodies lay, it was clear they were attempting to flee or surrender, only to be cut down without mercy.

She hoped she didn't have to go back, that the church would take care of properly and respectfully moving the corpses of her fellow Scions.

Yet here she was, back here again.

If anyone who had fought alongside her could see her now, they wouldn't believe she was the same person.

There was no hint of the fearless, brave Dragoon who wouldn't think twice about staring down even the most fearsome of beast.

No. There was just a shell shocked wreck of a woman, clutching her tail in her hands much in the same way she did as a child when she was frightened, ears flattened against her head as her footsteps echoed eerily through the mostly empty, dimly lit halls.

Halls once full of life, of comrades talking, laughing, drinking and bickering.

_ "Make it back as soon as you can, this calls for a celebration." _

That was what Minfillia said to her over the Linkshell. A celebration that became a funeral.

It was supposedly for closure, but it seemed cruel to her, to have her go back and collect the last of the bodies. Oda didn't have the will to agrue or refuse Sister Eluned's request.

She tried not to look at their faces, forever sleeping. She tried not to think about how she likely made a fool of herself getting far too drunk around these now deceased men and women, and how they would never be able to reminisce over the likely embarrassing memory. 

The worst was the final fallen ally. Noraxia. The brave little Sylph that gave her life trying to protect Minfilia, holding on to deliver a message to her before finally passing away in her arms. Oda wasn't sure how long she spent there, holding the Sylph's body in her arms, shoulders shaking with each deep, ragged breath, tears falling onto Noraxia's face.

The anger expressed by the Sylph elder Frixio was justified, but she wondered why none of it was aimed at her. Surely she was at fault somehow for not being there to stop it.

But could she have stopped it?

The Echo showed her everything. The ruthless and merciless brutality of the Empire's raid. How unbelievably strong the armor clad leader of the squad was. It would have been a certainty that the Mito'qe would have probably been cut down or shot no regardless of surrender or not.

Aside from asking for a room at the Carline Canopy, she spoke very little.

Staring at the ceiling, lying on the bed unable to sleep even with the purring cat stretched out on her bare stomach, her thoughts kept going back to the other Scions.

Thancred.

Urianger.

Y'shtola.

Yda.

Papalymo.

Were they okay?

They weren't among the dead. No headstones made for them. They were probably worried about her, wondering where she was. There was no doubt they knew, all of Eorzea knew about the raid.

It was pointless to worry right now, though. She had to meet with Alphinaud at Camp Drybone to plan their next move.

Tomorrow. 

For now, all she wanted to do.

Was  **sleep** . 


End file.
